


Soundless

by Lady_R



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Arguing, But is also brave and strong, Depression, Dystopia, Imprisonment, Isolation, Mettaton Cries A Lot, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebellion, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_R/pseuds/Lady_R
Summary: I had lost everything.I had nobody but myself.But somehow, that was all I needed.In Year 203X, the Underground has been taken over by a tyrannical entity known as The Peacekeeper. Whoever defies their orders is said never to see the light of day again.In the midst of the battle, all I wanted was to be remembered as a hero. I openly defied the Peacekeeper on my show, hoping to become an icon for freedom fighters. Instead, all I got was pain.I was captured and sealed away from the rest of the Underground, locked inside a box that would have become my whole world for the next six months. I waited, fighting against my isolation, begging for someone, anyone, to her my cries.Finally, someone came for me, but the whole world had changed. The Peacekeeper is stronger than ever. My mom has died from sorrow. And the only person who can take care of me seems to despise me above all else.Now, now. There’s no reason to be upset. After all, I’m still here. And I will rise up above all the pain I’ve been inflicted upon.My voice is my weapon, my memories are my storages.My name is Mettaton.Never forget that.





	Soundless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new story I came up with a while ago.  
> Although I'm unable to edit it, there'll be more chapters. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.  
> May the Legbot suffer.

He didn't know what had motivated him to such a rushed act. Attentions, probably. He wanted to be hailed as a hero, like Undyne, like Asgore, like any respectable guardsman. But he was just an actor playing the part of the hero. And some days afterwards, he paid his price.

First, he was hooded.  
Then, he was cuffed.  
And then, oh, then... That shock. That blow, there, behind his soul, that had struck him numb. And then he was lifted upwards and carried to the main square, where an open metallic trunk, the size of a yoga rug, waited to swallow him whole.

The last words he had heard, he still repeated them to himself once in a while. Down, down there, all alone with his despair.  
"This robot has committed treason, and for treason he shall be punished. He shall be isolated from the rest of the Underground, sealed away from his family and friend, forever to reflect on his mistakes and his hubris."  
He remembered Alphys sobbing her eyes out in the crowd as he was lifted and pushed inside the trunk that would have become his prison. Don't cry, he wanted to say, please don't cry, please, don't let your crying face be the last thing I see of you. But he couldn't speak. He was as lifeless as a doll. And just like a doll he was folded, pushed inside the metallic casing of the trunk, and locked inside, ready to be taken to the attic to rot forever.

He had heard the splash. He had felt gravity lose him. “Are you kidding me?” he had asked himself. The box had impacted the bottom of the watery place he was in, slowly. His systems were beaming. His inner barometer registered a pressure he had never felt before. HE tried to describe it to himself. “It’s like… the whole Earth is covering me.”. His pink Soul provided a form of light, a small beacon to keep him warm. He’d console himself looking at it, wiping his eyes and singing lullabies to himself. 

 

“ _Now, darling mine, how about you tell me_

_How hard you really think it’s gonna be_

_Come lay down, close these eyes so hurt and shiny_

_Blinded by the darkness that surrounds me_

_Constricted to an environment so dull_

_Where no one hears, as loud as I may call_

_But as hard as it all appears to me_

_Darling of mine, how hard you think it’ll be?_ "

 

He wanted to cry, and scream, and kick the walls of his cell, wailing “LET ME OUT” until his throat rotted. Did he do that? He didn’t know. He didn’t know much anymore. He probably dreamed of doing so once in a while. 

He repeated his memories to himself, minute after minute, hour after hour. My name is Mettaton, he would say. I have a cousin named Napstablook, another cousin named Mad, and a mom named Alphys, I’m the idol everyone craves, I’m locked inside a trunk after committing treason, and they’ll release me. They’ll come get me because I’m the idol everyone craves, I’m important, they won’t forget me, and don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s ok, don’t cry, what if they find you and you’re crying, get a hold of yourself, dammit. 

Sometimes, he did cry. When the memories where too strong, where he’d see Alphys’ chubby smile and Napstablook’s incorporeal eyes way too close to him for his own good. His body ached for the violent sobbing. He’d bite his own gloves in an attempt to stop. And everything hurt. His arms, and his legs, and his jaw, and the side of his body that he was laying against, and his SOUL. 

“My SOUL is as fragile as a bird without feathers.”

He’d make out comparisons that sounded pretty to feel less lonely.

“My SOUL is as bare as my face when I don’t wear makeup."

“My SOUL is as beautiful as a piece of glass in a lake.”

“My SOUL is as tiny as a grain of salt on a glamburger. But what were Glamburgers again? I think it was food. Did I like it? Can I eat food?”

“This cell is my home. It’s warm and cosy and completely isolated. My bed is pitch black with bright pink sheets. The mattress is made of iron and has a nice pillow where I can cry.”

He’d then laugh feebly at the very idea. “What do I even have to cry about? My house is the best. I should ask Blooky to come visit me. We can lay on the ground and feel like garbage. Maybe Mad would join us too. She never liked the family tradition. I wouldn’t cross her. She has a knife and she’s not afraid to use it. But why do my side and back hurt so much? I need a massage, otherwise I can’t perform. Why am I crying again?”

“I have pink eyes and black hair and the prettiest legs in the whole Underground, and my SOUL is pink, and my house is small and cosy, and my name… my name is…”

 

 

 

“What’s my name? And why am I crying?"


End file.
